The Five Times John Didn't Help Sherlock and One He Did
by 8of9
Summary: Sherlock has a little problem that only John can help him with. Pure slash, smut and PWP. Established Johnlock relationship. One-shot, just a quickie really! Rated M for adults only.


**The Five times John didn't help Sherlock, and the One time he did…**

_Sherlock has a little problem that only John can help him with. Pure slash, smut and PWP. Established Johnlock relationship. One-shot, just a quickie really!_

* * *

**ONE:**

Sherlock woke up in their bed, hard and wanting, but John was already in the shower. The case had finished late yesterday and he had come home directly in hopes of a little playtime with John, but he had already been asleep. He had promised himself this morning they would have some time together. Then he remembered. Damn, it was a work day and John was due at the surgery. Still, he could always ask…

"John! John, I need your help with something."

There was no reply. John either couldn't hear or was ignoring him. Either was equally possible. Now that their relationship was securely established John was paradoxically more likely to help him with genuine work-related requests and less likely to cave in to his unreasonable personal requests. Although John always made him tea, he had to acknowledge that.

Still, he needed something now that only John could do.

"John!"

John rushed back into their bedroom, dropped his towel and started rummaging in their closet for his work clothes. "Sherlock, I'm late already. Whatever it is you will have to do it yourself or wait until I get back this evening."

Sherlock sat in the middle of their bed and looked pointedly down at his erection. "I don't think it can wait until this evening."

John pulled his jumper down over his head and looked at Sherlock. He snorted. "Well, you could always take care of it yourself if you don't think it can wait." He leaned over and kissed Sherlock briefly on the lips but evaded any attempt to capture him with a hug.

Sherlock heard John running down the stairs, then the front door slammed. He sighed and prepared for a long sulk.

* * *

**TWO:**

By the time John came home that evening Sherlock was almost frantic. The day had been dull, dull, _dull_. He had texted Lestrade for a case; nothing. He had texted John 53 times throughout the day asking, begging and then demanding that John come home; nothing. He had searched the flat for John's gun but eventually decided that John must have taken it to the surgery and hidden it there. It was not possible for John to hide the gun in the flat somewhere that Sherlock was unable to find it. He had even considered getting dressed and going out to buy some cigarettes, but that would be too much like effort. Besides, John would be angry if he came home and smelled smoke in the flat and then he would be even less likely to help Sherlock with his problem.

Finally, finally he heard John's key in the door and his footsteps on the stairs. Oh dear, the steps were slow and uneven. Not a good sign.

"John! John, are you ready to help me _now_?"

"Not now, Sherlock. I've had a long and difficult day. Just let me have some time alone, will you? I'll be out later." John limped slowly past the living room and up the stairs to the spare room where he still kept some of his personal books and the remaining clothes and furniture that had not been moved into the downstairs bedroom they now shared most of the time. Sherlock heard the upstairs bedroom door close firmly.

* * *

**THREE:**

Sherlock decided to go have a shower. He didn't usually masturbate. He preferred John's hands on him but if John was too busy or too preoccupied then he would have to 'take care of it' himself. He turned on the water and stood under it; nothing. Damn. His mind was in the mood but his body was not interested in cooperating. He gave himself a few experimental stokes anyway, but the feeling was all wrong and he couldn't get hard.

He stepped out of the shower and pulled on some fresh pyjamas and his robe. Maybe after a nice dinner John would be more in the mood? He decided to order Chinese. John liked Chinese.

When the dinner arrived, he called up the stairs, "John? John, the food is here."

To his delight, he heard John's footsteps on the stairs and then John emerged into the living room. "Oh, you ordered dinner? Thanks, that's brilliant of you. It's been a long day."

John took his plate and wandered out with it to sit on the couch. He flicked on the telly and sat down with a sigh. Sherlock bit his lip, trying to decide if he should ask now, or wait until John had eaten. Looking at the tight lines still around John's mouth and the uneven tilt of John's shoulders, he decided that asking now would more than likely be counter-productive.

* * *

**FOUR:**

After John had finished eating, Sherlock removed his plate and sat on the couch next to him. He briefly considered trying to rest his head on John's shoulder, but their height difference made it impractical. He settled for sitting close to John and tried to nonchalantly put his arm around John's shoulders. He felt John stiffen immediately and removed his arm.

"Jo-ohn." He groaned. "I've been very patient and I even got you dinner! When are you going to help me?" He tried to take John's hand and guide it towards his thigh.

John pulled his hand away. "Later, OK? It's been a long day, and I'm tired and I just want to watch some crap telly and unwind. Let me have a shower and wash off the smell of antiseptics and when we go to bed, I promise, I'll help you then."

Sherlock huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. "Promise?"

John rolled his eyes. "I promise. Now shut up and let me watch this for just 20 more minutes, OK?"

Sherlock sighed and got up to check the website for the 34th time that day.

* * *

**FIVE:**

As soon as the program was over, Sherlock nudged John to remind him of his promise. John yawned and stretched and made his way into the bathroom. Sherlock had already brushed his teeth and was ready for bed, so he settled between the sheets with a book to wait for John. He listened while John had a shower and brushed his teeth. Did John always spend so long in the shower? He had never noticed before. He checked the time. No, less than five minutes had passed. His sense of time was off for some reason.

He decided to remove his pyjamas to make their joining more efficient. He checked the bedside table for lubricant. Everything was ready. He was hard with anticipation. Finally, he was going to get some! If only John wouldn't take so bloody long in the shower!

Eventually, after hours of subjective time, John emerged from the shower still pink and warm and wrapped only a towel. Sherlock smiled eagerly at the sight and leaned over to pull off John's towel.

"Easy there! You don't need to maul me, I promised I'd help you. Now, where is this little problem you've been having? Let the doctor see…" John smirked as he slid into bed beside Sherlock.

"Here," said Sherlock breathily, guiding John's hand to his straining erection. He groaned and flopped over on his back with his eyes closed as John gripped him firmly and stroked up and down. "Oh, yes, that's what I've been waiting for. Just like that."

John's hand moved up and down his shaft a few times but instead of establishing an urgent and satisfying rhythm, John's movements seemed to be getting slower and less regular.

"John?" He opened his eyes and looked across the bed.

John was asleep.

* * *

**PLUS ONE:**

In the morning Sherlock was woken by a small nip on his earlobe and John's warm breath on the back of his neck.

"I'm so sorry about last night. I must have fallen asleep. Let me make it up to you this morning."

Sherlock rolled over and glared at John. "You promised! Then you fell asleep!"

John's chuckle was a rumble in his chest, more felt than heard. "I said I'm sorry, and I meant it. Let me make it up to you. Whatever you want." John's left hand was roaming freely over Sherlock's chest and abdomen and edging down towards the waistband of his pyjamas.

Sherlock kicked them off impatiently and grabbed John's hand and guided it down to where it would do the most good. "Touch me, now. I can't wait any more and it just isn't the same when I do it myself." He was almost whining.

John huffed a little laugh, but was using his deft hands in just the way that Sherlock liked. Firm strokes with a little twist of the wrist around the head. Sherlock could feel the heat building quickly and gathering in his groin. This was going to be fast. Too fast, but he didn't care. They could indulge in slow lovemaking tomorrow. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the sensations flooding his body, washing away thought and whiting out boredom. This was what he had been hanging out for. The rush of endorphins that John gave him was better than drugs and had no side effects. Availability was an issue at times though.

"Do you want my mouth on you?" John's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"No," Sherlock gasped. "Just your hands, your marvellous hands… Just like that… I'm nearly there… Oh, John!" He groaned with pleasure and relief as he came in quick pulses into John's hand. John's other arm held him tight through the shuddering aftershocks of his orgasm, until his breathing steadied.

Sherlock buried his face in John's neck. "I missed you."

"I love you too."

Sherlock snorted. "I didn't say 'I love you.'"

"Yes you did." John leaned over and kissed him soundly, then rolled over on his side, dragging Sherlock's arm with him and tucking it around his waist. Sherlock curled up behind him and settled in for another nap.

Just before they both fell asleep again he whispered into the back of John's neck. "All right, I did. I do."

John did not bother to reply. He just smiled and snuggled closer and they both relaxed into comfortable sleep.

* * *

_Please review! Just don't ask me how my sex life is going or what inspired me to write this little piece. Just don't ask…_


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